The Third Wish

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I found the box in a small thrift shop. The wood felt smooth, warm in my hands. On the lid, a crescent moon was carved, faint but detailed. Inside, there was a note. Its words were strange, almost alive.

The shopkeeper smiled. "Three wishes," she said. "Be careful."

I didn’t laugh. Something about her felt wrong.

For the first wish, I asked for rain. Within an hour, the sky turned gray. It rained for three days.

The second wish came quickly. I asked for money. The next morning, I got a letter. An uncle I’d never met had died. His fortune was mine.

But guilt followed. I dreamed of his empty house, his lonely end.

The third wish wasn’t planned. I held off as long as I could. But one night, I gave in. "I wish for love," I whispered.

The changes were small at first. Old friends called. Strangers smiled at me. Then Anna appeared.

She was perfect—too perfect. She knew my thoughts, finished my sentences. At first, I was happy. But soon, it felt wrong.

One night, I woke up. She stood over me, her head tilted. "Do you love me?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, my voice shaking.

"Good," she said. Her voice cracked. "Because I was made for you."

The days blurred. I tried to leave, but I couldn’t. The world outside felt strange, distant.

I went to the attic and found the box. I screamed into the dark. "I take it back! Please!"

The box grew hot. The symbols glowed. A voice whispered: "No takebacks. Only replacements."

I woke alone. The house was empty. The rain wouldn’t stop. And Anna—her eyes watched me from every reflection.

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